Poet (where the sea charges with its whitecaps, o hoooo)

in 2024 Dutch poet Martijn Benders took it on himself to try become a toaster for his Reggaeband Berry Lee Berry & the Benders. He will write a number of poems for the occasion, this is one of them. This is the full text:
The poet is a stone cold ear-win
that hears how the stones wing-sing.
he feels the ringing mountains rest on the eye
his words are no reply but a ripple
Of the simple-triple-dipple of death on the nipple
On his chest the forest gently falls asleep
and his blood sinks in his lip-ships
tipping over from the waves of sleep.
The poet is a refuge-redeemer
bringing peace to the sheen of subterfuge
of devil-gleams of fishes rouging around
on the mirror of the moonlit ocean ground.
[chorus]
The youthfulness of his heart is not a shore
where the sea charges with its whitecaps, o hoooo
where the sea charges with its deathcaps, oooooo
His youthfulness is not a shore,
not a sure, not a sore,
not a poe-ring-thing of watting stones.
Nooooooooooo.
[verse 2]
I bellow sweetly at my creatures
that are suspicious futures hutting
against the cities of men. I bellow
like a jasmine-whale in Babbaree,
babbadeja, flower computers,
bee dee jay, dada pollen-looters
you fight the war and lose the battle
because the clappety polluters
of the future yellow futures
are puting your words
into the dead hearts of still births.
I show the foe-flow of the poet, so
I blacken space with your life
already eaten by love.
[bridge]
I show the foe-flow of the poet, so
I blacken space with your life
already eaten by love.
[chorus]
The youthfulness of his heart is not a shore
where the sea charges with its whitecaps, o hoooo
where the sea charges with its deathcaps, oooooo
His youthfulness is not a shore,
not a sure, not a sore,
not a poe-ring-thing of watting stones.
Nooooooooooo.
[verse 3]
You ask me: what is a poet?
I ask you: what is a question?
A quest for the zioned land
of the past, that keeps swarming
like a pest without rest
global warming, so-well-farming,
sour-welling to the garden
of diddely-death? Forget the breath
of books where the sun takes orders
from the darkly hooks of poetry.
Forget and be free, my friend.
Don’t prison the who-is-dom in gourds of words
that don’t belong in you
for I see the bad herders
coming from afar
with their songless eyes of war.

[@icarusmakarov9365]

I'm literally the first person TH-cam decided to recommend this to.
I don't know why, I don't know how, but I like it.

[@martinusbenders]

I think that's one of the angles of the craft, to make stuff people like that is outside of 'the reason why' :)

[@icarusmakarov9365]

@@martinusbenders I agree.
I looked into your content a little.
I have to say, I'm in absolute love with Das F des Winterschlaf.
Can't wait to delve deeper. Thank you for existing!

[@martinusbenders]

@@icarusmakarov9365 Thank you, that is so wonderful to hear!

[@martinusbenders]

@@icarusmakarov9365 I also write in the salon: thephilosophicalsalon.com/eurodivision-2024/

[@icarusmakarov9365]

@@martinusbenders Could you share a text for Das F des Winterschlaf teil 1? Neither Dutch, nor German are in my arsenal of languages, so I understand like 10% of it, and I'd like to understand more via translation :)
UPD: I'll translate it myself, that wasn't clear in the original message